VICKIE THAYER'S WOODY BOY

BOOK COVER PAINTING OF "WOODY BOY" IS BY: VICKIE HURTT-THAYER ILLUSTRATIONS AND ART~

Copyright © Vickie Thayer | Year Posted 2019

PROLOGUE: "A cat is a cat" so they say. Every person lays claim that they have the best cat ever. I would be no different, for sure. But my cat named "Woody Boy" was more than a cat, because he actually saved my life!

An Angel would be more appropriate in describing this beautiful soul that I found (at one week of age) huddled in a kitten pile, behind my shed.

This is his story and it's funny, cute, inspirational and in the end (very sad). I pondered for quite some time on the style of story I should choose to tell his tale, I decided it would be most fitting to write it in a non-fiction style. Some of the names are changed, except "Woody Boy's" name. He sure was some cat and he deserves his claim to fame.

This is my Angel "Woody Boy's" story...enjoy the music as you read.

1. ___CHAPTER ONE___

Who Are You?

I had a hard way to go (during the winter of 2008). My Depression was visiting me and my career was taking a toll on my ability to sleep, so was the depression. I had been to see my doctor and she suggested that I should take some time off from my very stressful job.

It was early March and I didn't want to sit at home with nothing to do, except for moping around the house, all day.

We had just lost our cat "Cruiser" to (the expected but not accepted) old age syndrome and a condition that he had suffered with, during the last few months of his life. His sister "Lazer was still with us, but her old age also presented a challenge, as she was diagnosed with diabetes. Two injections a day was barely keeping her alive. I was also dealing with some family issues and many issues at work. We also had just lost our very first fur baby that we had adopted (as husband and wife) her name was "Nikita." She was a beautiful Samoyed dog that joined our family when she was just four months old and when we were newly married. The loss of her and "Cruiser" I believe was the situation that started my downward spiral into the dark pit of depression.

I had suffered clinical depression before and I knew that the ugly monster was relentless when it presented itself. I decided to go back to work, despite the doctors orders. I don't like medication and tried to naturally treat myself. The self medication was not working.

It was the second week of April and while at work I started feeling really depressed. I had contemplated taking my life, else where. To put it into another perspective...to leave this life and join my cat "Cruiser" and faithful companion "Nikita."

I returned to the doctor and she suggested an anti-depressant for me. I never even considered such a thing. I filled the prescription and took a leave of absence from my job, but I still wouldn't take the pills. The prescription sat in my cupboard next to my coffee cups. Every morning as I reached for my favorite morning cup of (Joe) ceramic mug, the pills were a constant reminder for me, that I needed intervention.

I spent many days sleeping, not eating, crying and contemplating...contemplating the worth of my life, during those first few days off from work.

Now some would say that I was "weak" for not taking the prescription that was supposed to alleviate my suffering (but I say) that maybe I was really uncertain as to whether I really wanted to get well enough, to stay on this earth. I had... really had it with family, with my career, with my friends and dealing with the death of my pets and some family members, as well.

Depression always "amplifies" every "negative" in your life, I had plenty at this time to have "amplified" and besides a better life waited for me, I just didn't know it, just yet.

2. ___CHAPTER TWO___

What Are You?

I woke up on a cloudy and rainy April morning, my husband had already left for work. I attempted to call my daughter, as I really needed someone to talk to. I was feeling really down.

She hung up the phone after a very short conversation with me, always the way, unless she needed something. Like all the times she would ring me in the middle of the night, after a drunken night out with her friends, crying to me about the things that she saw her father doing at the establishment, that they both frequented. How it bothered her what she saw and on and on...as I politely let her talk my ear off (whilst in her enebreated state of mind). There were times that my daughters and son needed (or just wanted) money or furniture or...you get the picture...just call Mom...she'll fix it.

I was always the "listener" and the "fixer" but I was never the one who warranted being listened to. I was so sick of the treatment I often recieved from my so called family. I felt the connections were mostly toxic.

This would be one of the reasons that I would forever love and turn towards animals. They have a genuine love for you and never waver in that love (like people so often do). Animals and pets, they never expect anything more from you, other than your love and their love in return, it is always unconditional.

I had always loved nature and animals, but never as much as I did now, but I had decided to end it all, I was at the end of my rope and barely hanging on. I was ashamed to admit that I was suicidal, but hey there I was one of the thousands who was contemplating a permanent solution, for a temporary situation.

The rain was letting up now...I layed in bed, it now neared noon. There was a knock at my front door...too far to walk...I thought. The knock was louder now, I pushed myself to make the walk to the front room. I peered out the front window, my neighbor was standing at the door with something, I answered her third knock.

She was holding a baking dish and a card. "Hi Vickie, I heard you were under the weather"...she continued..."I made too much chicken pasta salad and thought you would enjoy some for lunch," she said. I presented my best fake smile and thanked her. "Who told you I wasn't feeling well?" I asked her. "Your husband" she replied.

She was a very God fearing woman and she smoked like a chimney, but she was a genuine person and we always liked her and her husband. "Thanks so much" I said as I reached through the door for the kind gesture of food . I didn't tell her that I didn't have an appetite, but maybe hubby could eat it for dinner...I thought. "Here is a card, also." she said as she ended the visit with "have a blessed day."

I was not as God fearing as she was, I had my own issues with God - Jehovah.

I put the pasta into the refrigerator and from there I slowly made my way to the kitchen sink, for a quick glass of water. I always loved a big window over a kitchen sink and I had spent many years looking out over our backyard through mine. It was a view of our entire fenced in yard and of our barn shed set in the corner of the yard.

As I stood there I turned around and leaned back into the sink, while I opened my generous neighbors card. It was a beautiful card filled with bible verses and "sorry to hear your ill" connotations. I felt a little guilty...If she only knew, I wanted to end it all. I still have her card and at the time I received it, I wasn't as appreciative, as I am today. I often read it and reflect on how close I was to committing the unthinkable.

I placed the card on the cupboard, I looked out the window one more time before deciding to retreat back to my coffin bed. Then "swoosh"...what was that?

I saw a black, slender cat, running from the deck - from beneath the kitchen window where I stood hidden from the world. It was really weird, because she looked back at the window, as soon as she neared the rear side of the shed. Oh great! I thought to myself, a sign, an omen, a black feral cat. I watched her as she disappeared behind the shed. I crawled back into my bed and didn't give it another thought. I had seen many feral cats in our yard before today and I thought this one was no different...boy was I wrong!

I'm very knowledgable about depression and anxiety disorders. I know that depression can also enter into your dreams while your sleeping, the same way as when your awake. Depression is like a garbage truck that follows you around 247. Depressive dreams are usually filled with nightmares.

Frequent and distressing nightmares, along with several other qualities of disturbed dreaming, such as changes in emotional intensity, increased bizarreness, or unusual character interactions, have been associated with depression.

So when I awoke from my dream about a black cat that had killed my entire family by way of rabies, I brushed it aside as a nightmare for the garbage truck.

(Pinterest Inspired Pin)

to be continued soon..,

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